


Be the Poison

by PreseaMoon



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 17:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2476796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PreseaMoon/pseuds/PreseaMoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> "What I do and say, my intent, none of that is factored in. Even if it were, it would be ignored. Of course," Izaya continued, almost offhand, “that could all be nonsense and the reality is no more complex than you being wildly attracted to me on every level and not wanting to admit it." </i><br/> <br/><i>"Gross..."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Be the Poison

**Author's Note:**

> I don't write from Izaya's perspective very often... I really, really like to, though. Masaomi was also fun to write here.
> 
> I am trying to get better at writing sexual content. It is an uphill battle.

“Did you know you’re only getting yourself more worked up?”

Masaomi stopped his excessive pacing and spun around to give a heated glare. 

Izaya held out his arms. “Would you like me to hold you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear?” he said with a flat expression and a voice twisted with so much saccharine it made Masaomi squirm.

“Everything out of your mouth is a sweet nothing,” Masaomi said, scoffing. Then he frowned as though the truth of that only occurred to him afterward. He fell diagonally onto the bed so his body would be farther from Izaya. “But… even with a razor at the center the sugar still counts for something. Right?” 

Izaya clicked his tongue and rested his chin atop his fist. “I’d prefer you not seek affirmation from me, since you only do it for the sake of arguing. Or perhaps it’s a holdover from when you couldn’t make any decision without my input.” He put a hand to his cheek, playing the demure schoolmate. “I had no idea you still held such feelings towards me, Masaomi-kun.”

Masaomi’s dull look shifted into unambiguous revulsion. “You’re gross.” He reached his chin out to the ceiling defiantly. Though still slight enough to indicate his youth, his Adam’s apple was more prominent than it’d been the prior year.

“Whether that sugar counts for something or not mostly has to do with how deprived you are,” Izaya said, watching Masaomi’s neck. “For example, if the comfort and affection you require were being provided elsewhere you wouldn’t be here now. What I do and say, my intent, none of that is factored in. Even if it were, it would be ignored.”

Masaomi’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He was trying to think of an argument, or just anything contrary, really, but he could see the sense in Izaya’s words. Too bad that sense wasn't quite where he thought it was.

Masaomi was, in general, very entertaining to watch. He simultaneously attempted to defy and uphold the lessons Izaya taught him. The things Izaya passed on to him tended to carry undeniable value. They could be said by anyone, but because the source was Izaya, a tripwire attached to whatever has been said was constantly being sought. Masaomi isn’t wrong to be cautious, of course, but Izaya meticulously places traps in traps in blind spots.

“Of course,” Izaya continued, almost offhand, “that could all be nonsense and the reality is no more complex than you being wildly attracted to me on every level and not wanting to admit it.”

“Gross…” 

Izaya laughed. “Who is that directed at?”

Masaomi rolled to his stomach, putting him within touching distance. He sighed deeply, in resignation. “Both of us, probably. Though you’re grosser. The grossest. The absolute worst, terrible, creepy, awful gross, gross…”

Izaya’s smile twitched. He dragged Masaomi closer and sat on his back. He positioned his fingers along Masaomi’s neck. “You know, Masaomi-kun, I’ll only tolerate so many of your insults. Do you really want to fill your quota in one go?” At the glare he received he added, lightly, “If you want me to be rough with you all you need to do is ask. Just say, ‘Please hurt me, Izaya-san, it’s the only thing the makes me feel better.’”

“Don’t sound so eager about it, you sadist.”

“It’s not sadism.” Izaya caressed the skin under his fingers lovingly and smiled at the shiver it caused, at the way Masaomi’s eyes couldn’t help but soften under the warmth of his fingers. “I’m eager to see every facet Kida Masaomi has to offer.”

“…It’s not anything new.”

“Your point? Say it, Masaomi-kun. Don’t give me that look. This counts as a valid form of foreplay.” 

Masaomi flushed bright red and looked shamed as he mumbled, “Please hurt me, Izaya. It makes me feel better.”

“Very nice,” Izaya said while, his fingers lightly stroked Masaomi’s jaw and ear. He angled Masaomi’s head so he could see pain flash in both eyes when he wrenched a wrist up his back.

Masaomi swore under his breath. He shut his eyes tight as Izaya made an effort to overlap his arm and spine. “It hurts.”

Masaomi leaned into Izaya’s hand, keeping his wince in check as he did so. This, Masaomi particularly craved, gentle affection coupled with sharp pain. As though these two completely different things would somehow balance each other out. Izaya supposed it did in a way, but the affection was only there because he couldn’t handle pain on its own well.

Izaya reached to the side and took a long strip of worn cloth. He wrapped it loosely around Masaomi’s wrist and forearm a few times before bringing the other arm close and doing the same. He looped figure eights around both wrists and tied several knots at the middle. The circles were small enough that he couldn’t slip his hands free, but they weren’t secure either, not totally, anyway. There was about an inch of space, and the cloth dug into his wrists as he automatically attempted to relieve the strain.

Izaya put his lips to Masaomi’s neck. “You can always say stop,” he said because reminding Masaomi of that was important.

For the weeks this specific aspect of their newly intimate relationship had been going on, Izaya took to gradually increasing Masaomi’s discomfort. Just to see if there would be a point where Masaomi did decided the pain was too much. He hadn’t yet. They came a long way; Masaomi’s hands were nearly at his shoulder blades now.

“I’m fine,” Masaomi predictably said. His breathing evened back out but his brow remained furrowed. 

Izaya brought his hands to all the spots Masaomi had the most immediate reactions to: behind his ear and down his neck, just above his collarbone, up and down his sides, the spot where his thigh and pelvis met and across. He made his hands touch lighter and quicker the longer he went. A flush work its way up Masaomi’s neck and he pressed his face to the mattress with a soft exhale.

Izaya wrapped his arms around Masaomi’s middle. “How do you feel, Masaomi-kun?” he asked at his ear.

Masaomi shivered and his fingers brushed Izaya’s shirt, maybe trying to grab it. “Anxious,” he swallowed and pressed further against the mattress, “and guilty.” A variation of the typical response he gave. It was a twofold answer. He felt anxiety and guilt for the past, and he also felt anxiety and guilt for doing what he was doing with Izaya. Which he was more predisposed to at that moment was impossible to determine without further prying.

Of all the things Masaomi picked up from Izaya, giving answers with multiple meanings that are all true to an extent is one of the most prominent. Izaya finds how frequently he does it very amusing considering how much Masaomi hates his guts. Although, it is possible Masaomi hasn’t realized either the source or his implementation of it, which only serves to make it more humorous since they are things he has fallen for time and time again and will likely continue to fall for in the future. But that’s part of what makes him such an endearing and worthwhile kid.

Izaya constricted his arms and snuggled the boy under him fondly. That Masaomi continuously came here despite hating him was also commendable. Not that Masaomi ever explicitly said so, or really did anything that could indicate that level of revulsion, but Izaya inarguably damaged him to a nearly irreparable extent. If Masaomi didn’t hate him it wouldn’t make much sense.

Masaomi’s hips flicked up, hitting low on Izaya’s abdomen and Izaya bit his neck in response. He rubbed Masaomi’s nipples through the relatively thin fabric of his white hoodie. Then he cupped his throat as though he planned to choke him. Masaomi made a soft whimpering sort of sound that, in different circumstances, would signify a high level of discomfort with the situation.

Izaya touched him, over and under his clothes, pinching and scratching and poking, not leaving a single patch of skin cold. And Masaomi squirmed restlessly beneath his weight, trying to produce whatever scrap of friction he could past his jeans and the duvet.

Izaya got up so he could roll Masaomi to his back and then sat back down. The sight of Masaomi, with his hoodie wrinkled and hiked up to reveal the clean lines of his hipbones coupled the soft smoothness of his pelvis, and the way he just watched Izaya under half-lid eyes, breathing heavily without a care, made the arousal settled inside him stir.

One of his hands snaked over his stomach and twisted his shirt in its grasp like it was choking the life out of his lust. It only grew stronger in retaliation, whirling in his belly as a tightly contained cyclone of feeling. He swallowed it down as best he could, which only succeeded in the sensation migrating fully to his groin, where it wrecked worse havoc than if he’d just left it alone.

Not that he wholly objected to having an erection; it was in the plans, for later. Whatever else it was, arousal was a distraction first and foremost. How was he supposed to appreciate Masaomi’s every little reaction when they made his body burn up with want?

He reached out his hand to Masaomi’s face, using his thumb to pull his mouth open a little more. Hot breath came out in a shudder, and again Masaomi squirmed. This time when his hips pressed forward his efforts were more effective, though perhaps they weren’t from his point of view. His groin met with Izaya’s, stiff fabrics rubbing together with just enough insistence to trigger a mutual flicker of gratification.

Masaomi let out a sound somewhere between a whine and moan. The vibrations of it hit Izaya’s thumb, and seemed to travel all the way up his arm and right to his groin with everything else. The smile he gave twisted wrong, and though Masaomi did not react to it in any particular way, he knew he needed to temper it. Or at least get it out of sight, lest Masaomi panicked. 

Masaomi called him a sadist, repeatedly, and without much thought. But if he genuinely believed that of Izaya there was no way he’d relinquish any amount of control over his body. The thought was there, in a joking capacity, yes, but that only meant it was on the brink of becoming his reality. If Masaomi decided Izaya was a sadist, then Izaya was a sadist and that’s all there was to it. This would end in the same breath.

And Izaya didn’t want it to end. Someday it would, probably. Weeks, months, years, it didn’t matter which, but when the end arrived it would be Izaya’s call, not Masaomi’s.

Izaya leaned over, being sure to pull his hips as he did so. He caught the resulting whine and then sealed their mouths together. He stroked and tugged Masaomi’s ear and earrings as they kissed, sometimes twisting the ear so Masaomi would make little gasps of pain and arch into him. His upper arms kept jerking in a way that suggested he wanted to touch Izaya but forgot they were tied up.

Masaomi pulled away panting in a halfway panicked kind of way. His chest heaved. His collarbone looked sharp, the jut of it could tear right through his stretched skin. Speckles of sweat caught the light and lit up his skin just right.

Izaya ran his fingers over his extended neck, relishing the way the skin quivered at the contact. He brought his lips to the other side and nipped it gently before asking, “What’s wrong, Masaomi-kun?”

“Izaya…”

“Yes? Do you want to stop?” he asked just to hear Masaomi say that he didn’t.

Masaomi moved his head so Izaya could see the irritated look intended for him. Though, in his current state, it didn’t do much besides make Izaya want to disrupt the look by making him moan. Not that he could elicit one in the allotted time.

Izaya nuzzled the side of Masaomi’s face. “If you don’t say anything I’ll just have to assume you don’t want to, you know,” he said with a teasing lilt.

“You’re so… annoying,” Masaomi responded without affection, but he still nuzzled Izaya back tenderly and pressed his lips to whatever patch of skin was most accessible. He took a breath. “You can’t stop now. I don’t want you to. I… I need you to.”

Izaya smiled lovingly and held Masaomi’s head carefully between his hands. “Did you just say you don’t want me to stop but you need me to?”

Masaomi groaned and tried to pull his head away but Izaya wouldn’t let him. “You know what I meant. Izaya,” he pleaded, “please don’t make me say it. Please.”

“So disappointing,” Izaya said with a theatrical sigh.

After removing Masaomi’s jeans and underwear Izaya settled beside him and let his hand wander over the newly bared skin, consciously skipping away whenever he got so close to Masaomi’s erection it twitched. As for Masaomi during this, he took carefully measured breaths and didn’t look anywhere near Izaya.

Izaya flipped him to his stomach. At first Masaomi tried to sit motionless, but it didn’t take long for him to try subtly pressing his hips into the mattress—an impossible feat. Izaya pinched the skin of his thigh, twisting it to ensure a dark bruise.

Masaomi flinched. “Ow…”

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice? You aren’t very sneaky.”

“Shut up.”

Izaya touched the inside of his thigh and pulled the skin between his fingers gently. “There’s no need for tactics such as that, Masaomi-kun. All you ever have to do is ask.”

“Liar.”

“Liar,” Izaya mimicked and Masaomi moved his leg out in what may have been a kick of some sort. Izaya laughed and patted his thigh. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that.”

“Sometimes when you talk I want to throw up.”

Izaya’s smile sharpened and his fingers dug into the soft flesh of Masaomi’s thigh. “Is that so. If you want, I could ensure you throw up. Would you like that?” He said that with too much venom but didn’t bother to follow it up with something kinder.

Masaomi was silent. Then he said, “Do whatever you want.”

Bubbles of elation filled his chest and threatened to pop. He managed to keep down his laughter but in its place was a too bright grin. He scooted closer and hugged Masaomi. “Ah, Masaomi-kun, shouldn’t you watch what you say? What if I took you up on that?”

“I don’t care.”

“Really? You don’t care if I make you throw up, and through whatever means I want? There are some unpleasant ones, you know.”

“I don’t care. Do what you want.”

One of the bubbles popped, causing a chain reaction, and Izaya did his best to muffle his laughter on Masaomi’s shoulder. He sighed with content. “I really, really do love you.”

“Shut up, don’t say stuff like that to me.”

“Why? Do you think you’ll say it back on accident?”

Masaomi made a growling sound and said nothing, which did not necessarily equate acquiescence.

Izaya released him. An unresponsive Masaomi wasn’t much fun. Continuing to poke him mostly yielded aggravated reactions, although sometimes, if poked in just the right way or the right spot, he would give in and breakdown. Neither of those results Izaya was keen on producing at the moment. Maybe after.

“Are you relaxed?” Izaya asked.

Masaomi made a grunting sound that was probably affirmation.

Izaya reached off to the side where he’d put the lube and vibrator. He maneuvered Masaomi onto his legs to get a better view and angle. After lathering up his fingers appropriately, he used the other hand to stroke idly up and down Masaomi’s side.

His wet fingers dragged across their target experimentally, causing Masaomi to tense automatically. They worked in slow circles, waiting for Masaomi’s nerves to calm then twist into impatience. Though he ended up not bothering with the impatience, instead gliding two fingers into Masaomi once it looked like he wanted to melt into the bed. Izaya appreciated the tight resistance of the body closed around his fingers as he pushed farther inside.

He stroked inside and spread apart his fingers, not taking long to add a third finger. Two of those fingers bent to tease his prostate. Masaomi made an effort to move into the touch and Izaya met it. His free hand rubbed Masaomi’s hip soothingly as he gasped and his breath came out heavy.

And then Izaya pulled his fingers free. Masaomi moaned in annoyance and rocked into him weakly.

Izaya reached back for the vibrator and brought it to Masaomi’s entrance. He held it there just long enough for him to know it was there, and then he unceremoniously drove it in. The muscles of Masaomi’s stomach jumped and jumped again when the muscles started to relax. 

Izaya set it to the medium setting, listened for Masaomi’s reaction, and left it. He rolled Masaomi to his back and got on top of him.

Izaya took a moment to take in and admire the view of Masaomi wanting and agitated. Sweat was starting to pool at the hollows of his stretched out neck and red suffused over his bared skin. He tried to remain very still, but his shoulders and stomach continued to tremble.

Izaya thought it was unfortunate he did not have a proper gag on hand; Masaomi would look good with one. Though that would have made it harder to keep his body’s reaction in check.

Izaya pushed up Masaomi’s hoodie, making sure to drag his nails as he did so. He leaned down, exhaling a concentration of hot air onto a nipple before following it up with the tip of his tongue to flick and swirl around it. Masaomi squeaked, then moaned when Izaya’s lips closed around his skin and applied pressure.

Izaya smiled. He stroked Masaomi’s stomach and rounded to his back.

In the middle of this a phone rang. Not Izaya’s. He never brought one into the room.

He shot Masaomi a disapproving look. “You should know better by now, Masaomi-kun.”

He searched out Masaomi’s discarded jeans and pulled out the cellphone. If only it were Ryuugamine Mikado calling instead of one of the Yellow Scarves. That would be much more interesting. He accepted the call and held the phone to Masaomi’s ear.

Masaomi glowered at him before answering. “Ah, w-what’s up? … What? … What? N-no. I’m… I’m not busy. That’s…”

Izaya brushed a thumb over the nipple his mouth had been attached to. Masaomi’s lips pressed into a line but a whine still reverberated from his throat. He mouthed Izaya’s name but it only made Izaya circle the nipple with a rougher motion.

Masaomi choked on cry. “S-sorry. What was that? … Oh. Okay. Let’s… Let’s reschedule for tomorrow. Maybe… Maybe after dark? … Yeah, that’s fine.”

Izaya reached back his hand to nudge the vibrator further inside Masaomi and turned the setting higher.

Masaomi turned away from the phone in hopes doing so would somehow make his moaning harder to hear. His head lolled back to the phone. “I… I walked into a table I gotta go bye.”

Izaya didn’t hang up, just watching the intense red of Masaomi’s face glow brighter. The call ended without Izaya needing to press the button.

Masaomi he did his best to kick at Izaya’s side and arm a few times. Izaya let him. The kicks weren’t really all that strong and the position Masaomi shifted into to get the needed leverage gave him a wonderfully wanton look. “Bastard. You bastard. I’m gonna… Fuck. Fuck. You bastard.”

“Aw, that’s uncalled for. You did say that I could do whatever I wanted. Remember?”

Masaomi curled on his side and gave a dour look that quickly faded to dizziness. His body shook and he pressed his face desperately to the mattress to muffle the endless string of whimpers. His knees parted and met and he curled in further on himself.

Izaya moved closer and laid beside him. He placed one hand on Masaomi’s side and three fingers of the other in his mouth, settling them on his tongue. Saliva trickled out Masaomi’s mouth and to the bed. His lips trembled against Izaya’s fingers. 

The hand on Masaomi’s side slid lower while he closed some of the distance between them. Masaomi tensed with anticipation, his teeth sunk into Izaya’s skin, his hips jutted out. The sweat on his brow made a trail down to the bed.

Masaomi’s legs carefully extended and weaved with Izaya’s. The tip of his erection caught on Izaya’s shirt, causing his entire body to shudder. Unthinkingly, he attempted to pull the shirt further, which was not successful but did make him groan around Izaya’s fingers.

“Masaomi-kun, please refrain from trying to jerk yourself off on my shirt. I’m right here.”

Masaomi glared and bucked his hips again out of spite.

Izaya poked the nail of his thumb into Masaomi’s cheek. “There’s no need for that. Sometimes I think you don’t appreciate all the things I do for you.” He forced his fingers further into Masaomi’s mouth, making him start to gag. “Masaomi-kun is such a disrespectful kid anymore.” The quasi-fearful look he was given made him laugh. “I’m not going to hurt you… What could I possibly gain from that now?”

His words did not appear to make Masaomi feel any better. And why should they? 

With a smile he extracted his hand and moved it to the back of Masaomi’s head. He leaned in to press his forehead to the crown of Masaomi’s head. Meanwhile his other hand closed around Masaomi’s cock and squeezed as he gave a small tug. “I like the Masaomi of now.” He stroked in time to the slow enunciation of his words, emphasizing something, though he wasn’t entirely sure what. 

Masaomi was panting with tiny helpless moans thrown in; chances were he couldn’t pay attention if he wanted to. His eyes were hazy and unseeing.

“Masaomi-kun,” he said, and then again and again, slowing the syllables like it became increasingly foreign with each repetition.

Masaomi’s arms tried to pull apart, his breath fell so heavy it sounded like he couldn’t breathe at all. His hips tried to meet Izaya’s rhythm. Each movement brought a tiny expulsion of pained sounding air.

Clumsily, Masaomi’s lips sought his, nudging Izaya’s nose and chin awkwardly on their way. It took a few tries for him to successfully catch Izaya’s bottom lip, but once he had it he didn’t let go. He pulled, and pressed into Izaya’s mouth with raw urgency that made the fingers in his hair twist.

When Masaomi came his mouth fell open and the entirety of his moan couldn’t be caught by Izaya’s mouth. They continued to kiss during and after, Izaya pushing Masaomi to his back and climbing halfway on top of him. 

Masaomi’s tongue moved absently, totally listless, reluctant to stop. He sighed into Izaya’s mouth contentedly, but then shivered violently and froze. His mouth stilled against Izaya’s and mumbled something that couldn’t be made out.

Izaya pulled back. A few tears had fallen and mingled with the sweat at Masaomi’s temples. “What?”

“Take it out,” he said, voice somewhat hoarse.

Izaya blinked. “Oh, right. Are you sure? We could just leave it in. I think that would be a lot of fun.”

“Take it out,” Masaomi groaned. “Take it out, Izaya, please, you bastard.”

“If you can’t ask nicely maybe I won’t,” Izaya said childishly.

Masaomi directed an utterly disgusted look his way.

Izaya reached a hand between Masaomi’s thighs. “Don’t take everything so seriously, Masaomi-kun. At this rate I don’t see how you could possibly be fooling anyone.”

The vibrator was a bit more dislodged than he’d initially suspected. Disappointing. He lowered the setting and fixed the angle; Masaomi let out a delightful yelp. His thighs automatically closed around Izaya’s arm, his soft cock twitched.

“Stop it, bastard, take it out. My ass is practically numb, take it out take it out take it out.”

“Okay okay. Calm down, you’re fine, Masaomi-kun, it’s out.” Masaomi let out a relieved breath and Izaya put a hand on his stomach. “You were much better last time,” he said.

“Shut up.”

Izaya got to work untying the knots binding Masaomi’s arms together. Several were knotted so tightly he thought he’d have to cut them out. Once he got out the knots and unwrapped the fabric he pulled it free and tossed it to the side.

He pulled Masaomi’s arms out to the side and massaged feeling back into them, moving up each arm and to his shoulders. There were already bruises around his wrists, darker and more discolored on the top than the bottom. He brought one wrist to Masaomi’s face.

“How do you plan to explain this to your friends?” he asked, amused.

“Shut up.”

“Are you not going to bother explaining? Hide them, or maybe distract your friends with one of your terribly clever jokes if they notice? Maybe you want to see if they’ll notice at all. I’m not judging you, just curious.”

“Oh my god, shut up. Use your imagination.”

Izaya slipped his hands under Masaomi’s hoodie and ran them up his back. “Fiiine. I think you’ll be careless about it. You won’t want them to see and ask questions, but you won’t do anything to prevent either of those things. When asked about it, you won’t reply with an ounce of honesty. So, then, will that be classified as a cry for help, attention, or something else? What will your friends think, what will they do, when you—Masaomi-kun, please.”

Masaomi’s leg had come up to drive his heel into Izaya’s shoulder blade, several times, with growing force. None of the hits hurt much, however.

“That wasn’t an invitation to monologue at me. Or share any of your ideas with me. I don’t care about what you have to say.”

“Liar,” Izaya said in a singsong. He dragged the pads of his fingers down Masaomi’s back. “I like that you’re a liar, though, because you try so hard to be honest anyway.”

“If you don’t shut up I won’t suck you off.”

Izaya ruffled his hair with a smile. “Like I said. Ah, but that’s good! I’m happy you haven’t forgot. I think you like it far too much to go through with something like that,” he said sweetly.

Masaomi made gagging sound. “You’re so gross.”

Masaomi said things like that often enough, with varying degrees of sincerity, but it failed to lessen the enthusiasm he exerted and maintained when he took Izaya into his mouth. He was on his stomach, with his arms lazily crossed behind Izaya’s back. He was noticeably drained but sucked and lapped earnestly.

His head tilted this way and that, ducking low and rising and pulling back, carelessly letting Izaya’s cock to drag and knock against wherever. His lips tightened, his cheeks stained a lovely red sucked in, his tongue flicked and stroked, lingering just so for tendrils of sensation to shoot up Izaya’s spine.

Masaomi was familiar enough with how Izaya’s body—or at least his cock—worked, so he could get this over with relatively quickly if he wanted. Sometimes when he was especially annoyed he did just that. Right then was somehow not one of those times. Izaya was grateful, and perhaps even a little touched, that Masaomi decided to take his time and draw it out.

He indulged in this sort of thing rarely. Or he used to. Now that Masaomi started coming around again and they either devolved or evolved into this it became more of a regular thing.

Masaomi released him with a quiet and wet _pop_ to better catch his breath. He kept his eyes straight ahead. His lips glistened with saliva, and maybe a little bit of cum if Izaya looked close. There were a few sticky lines of wetness connecting his top and bottom lip. His tongue swept across his lips and took a moment too long to return inside. Something inside Izaya’s body twitched.

His tongue came back out. Its tip pressed to Izaya’s, it shifted flat, and then his lips closed around and took in the entire head.

Izaya grinned and ruffled Masaomi’s hair with both hands. While his legs remained almost completely still, the rest of his body swayed back and forth. He wasn’t in a position for it, but he wanted to shove his cock down Masaomi’s throat and see how he’d react.

Unfortunately they weren’t at a level where doing that would be acceptable.

Izaya hummed as a moan worked its way up his throat, in the end only exiting as a pleased puff of air. There wasn’t a need to control his breathing and noises to the extent that he was. It wasn’t as though he were particularly bothered or self-conscious about it. But, as proven by the several times he was touched just right and couldn’t help a revealing moan or two, Masaomi was prone to gloating. 

A smug Masaomi was annoying, and thus avoided.

Masaomi looked up at him. Hair drying with sweat stuck to his forehead and his eyes were rimmed with a little red. Several tear tracks were prominent over the flush of his skin. Izaya grinned probably too lasciviously, because Masaomi cringed before redirecting his gaze and giving a hard suck.

Izaya hips jumped, and then Masaomi made them jump again. He pulled back a little and twisted his tongue incessantly until Izaya came in his mouth. Izaya gasped sharply at it and unthinkingly pulled Masaomi’s head closer. Masaomi continued to pull and swipe with his tongue but didn’t swallow once.

Masaomi drew away. A thick string of cum led from his mouth to Izaya’s cock and drooped low. Looking dazed, Masaomi hung his head and opened his mouth, letting a mix of saliva and cum spill out onto the bed like vomit. His mouth remained open as remains of the blend stretched to the bed. He wiped his mouth and spit out what he could of what was left in his mouth.

Izaya watched him do this with his chin propped on the heel of his hand, unimpressed. “It’s so disappointing you won’t swallow, Masaomi-kun. It’s not like you can spit all of it out, you know.”

“I don’t want it inside me.”

“I don’t think that’s true. Not that I’d go as far as to say you want my semen in your stomach, but you aren’t opposed to it in your ass. And some of it is in your stomach no matter what you do.” Izaya smiled gently. “Honestly, I think you just want to inconvenience me by dirtying my bed further. I don’t mind, though. Please continue to do so, Masaomi-kun, I’ll take it as a token of your love.”

“Ugh…”

“Hey, are you already hard again? The joys of youth. Would you like me to do something about that?” He put his hands on the mattress to crawl over and Masaomi scrambled back as soon as he moved forward.

“Don’t touch me.”

Izaya moved no further but didn’t return to his original spot. “Of course. I would never touch you without your express permission, Masaomi-kun.”

Masaomi stared at him warily, then pulled his knees up and looked away. “And what do you mean by ‘youth,’ you aren’t that old. I didn’t know your dick was decades older than you.”

“You’re so spiteful today.”

Masaomi frowned.

“It’s fine. I like the spiteful Masaomi too.”

He extended his hand and waited to see if Masaomi would recoil or snap at him. Even when he did neither Izaya waited, leaving his hand hovering close, waiting.

Masaomi sighed and reached out to take his hand.


End file.
